


The Five Things Only Tony Would Know...And The One Thing Peter Always Knew

by wildwaveswhist



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Arguing, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Memories, Mind Control, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant, Peter Parker Being a Badass, Peter Parker Has a Family, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23793562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildwaveswhist/pseuds/wildwaveswhist
Summary: "Tell me something only you would know."After a while, it became a ritual. The memories of Mysterio would resurface, they would make Peter doubt his reality, and then Tony would remind him of it. Because if Tony couldn't reverse what happened, you could be damn well sure he'd be there to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 84
Kudos: 340





	1. The doorknob and the maths homework

**Author's Note:**

> With all Peter had been through, nightmares were probably inevitable. Tony may have been new to the whole parenting-a-teenager-with-superpowers thing, but nightmares? Those he knew all too well.

“OK, you win.”

“What?” 

Peter took out his earphones and twisted round, looking down at Tony with a smile.

“I said,  _ you win _ ,” Tony said, long grown used to the sight of a teenager crawling on the ceiling. “This is better than any present Pepper or I have ever gotten her. You’re officially gonna be her favourite.”

Peter rolled his eyes and continued screwing the lightbulb into place.

“I didn’t realise it was a competition.”

“It wasn’t until you upped your game, kid.”

“Uh, you’re a billionaire, Mr Stark," Peter laughed. "You could get her literally any present she wants. Plus, I bought this stuff with my salary for the Stark internship, so if you think about it, it’s actually from you.”

Tony scoffed. 

“Yeah, when you said you were gonna redecorate Morgan’s room, I thought you’d paint the walls. Maybe get her some new bedsheets. Not...this!”

He waved his arms at...well, the whole room. It looked like it was straight off the cover of one of those  _ Cosy Home _ magazines Pepper had been obsessed with when she was pregnant. Gone were the neutral cream walls and plastic clutter of Morgan’s toddlerhood. Now, it was filled with sky blues and floral prints, carefully colour-coordinated toys and furniture, purple bunting lining the ceiling and one wall dedicated to family photos in colourful frames. 

Morgan was gonna go nuts.

“It’s a lot, is all I’m saying.”

Peter‘s face fell. He un-stuck from the ceiling and dropped to the floor, landing with a soft thud on the newly laid carpet.

“Is it… I mean, is this OK? You said I could - ”

“That’s not what I meant, kid," Tony said. "It’s just - well, I didn’t expect you to do so much. She’s gonna love it.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” 

Peter beamed. 

“Oh, don’t look so pleased with yourself, Parker, that wasn’t a compliment, it was surrender.”

Peter grinned, stepping back to admire the room, hands that were still tinged with blue paint on his hips.

“Well, I think it’s about done. When do they get here?”

Tony checked his watch. 

“In...about three hours.”

“Ok. I’m gonna go finish my homework before they get back.” 

Peter weaved past Tony towards the door, swinging back around just before he left. 

“Oh! You’re making Pepper lasagne for dinner.”

“Uh, I am?”

“Yep. It’s in the oven already, you just need to turn it to two-hundred and cook it for forty minutes. And maybe, I dunno, set up some candles or rose petals or something. Whatever adults in love do.”

“You trying to add some spice into my relationship, kid?” 

Peter pulled a face.

“Gross. You’re gross. No, I just thought seeing as Morgan’s getting a surprise, Pepper should have one too.”

“It’s not a recipe of your aunt's, is it?”

“Of course not. I found it on Google.”

“Great. Thanks, kid.”

Peter smiled and headed out of the door, only to whirl back around. 

“One more thing. Don’t let Morgan in here without me.”

Tony gave a mock salute.

“Copy that.”

* * *

As Tony predicted, Morgan did, in fact, go nuts.

She and Pepper arrived an hour earlier than expected, Pep’s meeting with the leaders of Wakanda having been cut short after T’Challa was called off for whatever royal duties Wakandan kings were required to do. Peter had, of course, decided that this was the perfect time to be busy taking a shower, leaving Tony to stall them desperately in the hallway.

“Daddy!” 

Tony _oof_ ed as Morgan ran into him and threw her arms around his waist. He looked up at Pepper in question.

“You’re early!” 

“Well, hello to you too,” Pepper laughed, planting a quick kiss on his cheek as she took off her coat. “Come on, baby, let’s go put your stuff back in your room.”

“Actually,” Tony said, putting himself between them and the stairs, “I don’t think you can go up to your room just yet.”

“Why not, Daddy?”

“Why not what?”

“Why can’t I go to my room?”

“Why can’t you? Why can’t you go to your room, good question. Well, you can’t because, uh...because there’s a big spider up there.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. 

“I’m not scared of spiders.”

“Oh, you would be if you saw this one. It’s huge and hairy with, you know, big teeth. But Peter’s dealing with it, because he’s Spider-Man, so let’s all just wait for him to come and tell us it’s safe.”

Morgan’s face broke into a smile. 

“You’re being silly!”

“Darn it. Fine, fine, you got me,” Tony said, bending down and picking her up before she could scoot past him and run upstairs. “And as a reward you get to...come with me to the kitchen and have a pre-dinner juice pop?”

Pepper began to protest, before she was cut off by Tony throwing a pointed look over his shoulder. It was a look he hoped more-or-less translated to  _ Peter has a surprise for Morgan which he’s worked very hard on and he’d be heartbroken if he wasn’t there when she gets it, so just play along, please, and also sorry for breaking the ‘no-juice-pops-before-dinner’ rule. _

She still looked less than impressed as she followed them out to the kitchen but, to Tony’s relief, she was quickly distracted by the cutlery and flowers he had set up on the dining table. 

“Uh, napkins?” 

“Not just napkins,” Tony said, inviting her to peek at the lasagne inside the oven. 

She looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“What’s the occasion?” 

“Just dinner. A romantic one. You know, just the two of us, you and me time. Kids locked upstairs or maybe tied up outside...”

“Wow,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist. “And this was all your idea?”

“What, the napkins? Yes, they were absolutely my idea. Peter may have played a small, practically insignificant role in the dinner.”

Pepper laughed, leaning in and kissing him softly. Tony closed his eyes, caught up in the smell of her perfume, the feel of her hand on the back of his neck.

“Sweet kid,” she muttered when their lips parted. 

“What, no credit for the napkins? The flowers were my idea too, you know.”

“Sorry!”

Peter suddenly ran into the kitchen, his still-wet hair leaving drops of water on the floor.

“Hi, Peter,” Pepper said. 

“Hey! F.R.I told me you were here but I was in the shower, I thought you were -”

“Pete!”

Peter was interrupted by Morgan barrelling into him, abandoning her juice pop in a sticky puddle on the kitchen counter. 

“Hey, kiddo! How was your trip?”

“Boring,” she groaned. “Daddy said you were fighting a giant spider in my room, but I knew he was joking.”

“Uh…?”

Peter glanced up at them, bewildered. Tony just shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Alright,” Peter said slowly, picking up Morgan with the ease and grace Tony could have done it with if he was thirty years younger and had super-strength. “Well, there’s no giant spider - unless you count me, I guess - but there is a surprise. Wanna go see?”

“A surprise? What is it?”

“It kinda spoils the fun if I tell you, kiddo.”

Morgan squirmed out of Peter’s arms and the two of them ran up the stairs. Tony and Pepper followed behind (at a speed that was actually above average for their age, thank you very much), catching up just as Morgan burst through her door. 

For a moment, she froze. Slowly, she walked inside, spinning in a circle in the centre of the room and looking around with wide eyes. 

“What happened?” she whispered. 

“The room fairy came,” Tony said, clapping a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“OK, I am actually jealous,” Pepper said, peering past Tony at the new decor. “You did this all yourself, Peter?”

Tony huffed. “I mean, I gave him  _ permission _ , so…”

“You did this for me?” 

Morgan was staring at Peter, her voice nearly a whisper. 

Standing next to Tony in the doorway, Peter smiled nervously and nodded.

“Do you like it?” 

“I love it! It’s the best surprise ever! But...why?” 

“Why what?” 

“Why did you get me a new room? It’s not my birthday or Christmas.“

Peter edged around Tony towards her, picking her up and sitting her on her new bed.

“Well, uh...remember a few weeks ago, when you said you were nervous about starting school? You said you were worried you wouldn’t have any friends?”

Morgan nodded. 

“Well, I thought that if you had an amazing new room, it would show you how amazing you are. And you can bring the millions of friends you’re gonna make here for sleepovers and stuff, and they’ll see it too.”

Morgan beamed at him. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, and threw her arms around his neck. 

Yep. Definitely the favourite. Tony accepted defeat, and strangely, he was happy to do so.

* * *

It was two hours later when Morgan finally emerged. She bounded downstairs and flopped onto the couch, where Tony was working on some new designs on his tablet and Peter was  _ snap-apping _ or whatever it was on his phone. 

Judging from the not-so-subtle heart eyes he was making whenever the thing buzzed, Tony was pretty sure he was talking to that girl he’d mentioned, MJ. He made a mental note to make some delicate enquiries about it later on. 

“Hey, squirt,” he said as Morgan scooted up next to him. “How’s your room?”

“Amazing!” she replied. “I love it. It smells weird though.”

“You sure that’s the room and not you?”

“Hey! I don’t smell!”

“Right. Well, it’ll just be the paint then. It’ll be gone in a few days.”

“It makes my head feel funny.” 

“Well, we’ll open the window to get rid of it and you can sleep down here on the couch for tonight.”

“I don’t like the couch. It’s scary when it’s dark.”

Tony sighed, putting the tablet on the coffee table. 

“OK, you can sleep in mine and Mom’s room then.”

“I don’t wanna sleep in your room. You snore!”

Peter laughed quietly, briefly glancing up from the message he was typing.

Tony huffed. 

“For the record, no I do not. But fine, how’s the garden sound?”

“Daddy! Don't be silly!” 

“Well, if the garden really isn’t an option, it’s either our room or the couch.”

“Well, can Peter sleep on the couch too?”

Peter’s eyes widened. 

“I - uh -”

“‘Cause I won’t be scared if Peter’s there.”

Peter looked unsure for a moment, but eventually he smiled and shrugged.

“I mean, sure. Why not? It’ll be like a sleepover.”

“Good,” Tony said. “Fine. Remember though, the garden will still be available should Miss Snores-a-lot get too loud.”

Peter laughed. His phone buzzed and he went right back to typing, although for a moment, Tony saw a flash of worry cross the kid’s face.

_ Probably just girl trouble _ , Tony thought. 

He unlocked the tablet again and continued working. 

* * *

“Brushed your teeth?”

Morgan nodded. She was lying under her blanket on the smaller couch, the three teddy bears she insisted were  _ absolutely _ necessary for her to fall asleep tucked in either side of her. 

“Alright. Night night, sleep tight. Don’t let the monster who lives under the couch bite.”

“There’s no monster under the couch!”

Tony smiled, bending down and kissing her head.

“No, there’s just one on top of it. Love you.”

“Love you more!”

“Love you most.”

“Love you most-er!”

Tony turned to Peter, suddenly unsure of what to do. He was on the other couch, book open in his lap and the teddy bear Morgan had insisted he borrow for the night beside him. 

“Uh, you brushed your teeth?”

“Mr Stark,” Peter groaned, rolling his eyes. 

Tony grinned. 

“Alright. Night, bud," he said, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder before heading up the stairs.

He switched out the light on the way up. 

“No gossiping, you two.” 

* * *

“Daddy?”

Tony stirred and rolled over. He felt a small hand tapping his arm. 

“Daddy?” 

“Hmm?”

“Are you awake?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. He glanced up at the clock on the bedside table. 

_ 02:28am.  _ Delightful.

“You ‘K?”

“Something’s wrong with Peter.”

Funny, how four words could make Tony go from half-asleep to wide awake in a matter of seconds. He threw back the covers and got out of bed, barely registering the usual aches and pains that made that seemingly simple task a gargantuan effort. 

“What’s wrong? Is he hurt?” 

A thousand different awful scenarios flooded through his mind, each one heaving him up into a higher level of panic.

_Injured. Sick. Taken. Vanished, again, crumbling into dust, and Tony hadn't even been there -_

“No,” Morgan whispered, watching as he scrambled to put on some pyjama bottoms. “I think he’s having a bad dream.”

Tony stopped and braced himself against the wall, taking a breath.

OK. Nightmares he could deal with. 

“Alright. Stay here, I'll go check on him.” 

He picked her up and put her on the bed next to Pepper, before padding quietly down the stairs.

Morgan’s night-light illuminated just enough of the living room for Peter to be visible.  The kid was curled up on his side, sheets rumpled and half dangling on the floor. As Tony got closer, Peter flinched, crying out and clutching the pillow so tightly in his fist that the fabric tore. 

_ Oh, kid.  _

“Peter?” Tony said, putting a cautious hand on his shoulder.

Still asleep, Peter tried to struggle away, mumbling something Tony couldn’t make out. 

_ Shit.  _ Apparently waking him up gently wasn’t an option. 

Bracing himself, Tony put both hands on the kid’s shoulders and shook him firmly. 

“Peter!” 

Peter’s eyes shot open. He drew in a strangled gasp and jerked out of Tony’s grip, chest heaving. Tony backed off quickly, knowing from experience it was best to avoid taking a hit from a scared super-kid. 

“Pete! Hey, it’s alright!”

Peter looked wildly around the room, eyes searching for whatever terror they had just been seeing.

“M-May?”

“She’s fine, it's OK! She texted me a few hours ago to say she was back from work. It was just a nightmare, kid, breathe.”

He held out a hand, but Peter didn’t move, tense and trembling and looking at Tony as if he didn’t recognise him. 

Tony paused. 

It had been two weeks since Peter got back from his trip, and one and a half since May had sent him to stay with Tony for a while, concerned about him being alone for so long while she was at work. Wrapped up in helping the Avengers rebuild after the Blip, Tony had missed everything that had happened. However, he had read and re-read Happy’s report until he had memorised it, had watched hundreds of clips of surveillance footage from right across Europe, piecing together every step Peter had taken right up until the battle in London. A patchwork record of Tony’s failure, of every moment he _wasn’t there_ , every time he had let the kid - _his_ kid \- down. 

The look on Peter’s face now was the same as it had been in the Netherlands, when he was hurt and scared and surrounded by faces he didn’t know. It was the same as when he was stumbling towards the jet, holding up a bloody hand to keep Happy away, the same as it had been o n London Bridge after Beck finally crumpled to the floor. 

It was the same as when Happy had found him an hour later, crouched behind the remains of a wrecked car, and he had scrambled away, repeating those same words.

_ Tell me something only you would know. _

“Pete? Remember the first time we met?” 

Peter was motionless, tears filling his eyes.

“You, uh, you webbed me to your door handle, remember? And then you had to go to the store to get something because you had run out of the solution to dissolve it with. Made me wait twenty minutes. Oh, and I finished your math homework for you, while you were gone. Pretty sure it was differentiation.”

Peter exhaled shakily. Slowly, he allowed himself to relax, disentangling himself from the blankets and throwing his legs over the side of the couch.

“OK,” he muttered, holding his head in his hands. “OK, everyone’s OK.  _ God. _ ”

Tony waited, sat awkwardly on the coffee table, as Peter tried to steady his breathing.

“M’sorry, sir.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, kid.”

Peter let out a quiet sob, his breath hitching.

“This is so stupid.”

“It’s not. Pete, look at me.”

Peter lifted his head, meeting Tony’s gaze. 

“You are not stupid. And this is  _ not  _ your fault.”

Peter took a deep breath and nodded, before his eyes widened suddenly.

“Morgan! Is she - ”

“I’m here.”

They both looked up to find Morgan watching them from the top of the stairs. 

“Thought I told you to stay with Mom, little miss?”

“I was worried.”

She padded down and slowly approached them, her gaze fixed on Peter. 

He wiped his eyes quickly with the back of his hand and put on a weak smile. 

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Are you OK, Pete?”

“Yeah, it's OK. Sorry I scared you.”

She rubbed her eyes, her hair still sticking up from where she had been sleeping.

“I wanted to wake you up, but you said not to," she said.

“I know,” Peter replied, pulling her up onto his knee. “I know. You did good, don’t worry.”

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. 

“Were you having a bad dream?” 

Peter sniffed, wiping his eyes again.

“Yeah.”

“I have bad dreams too, sometimes. I get scared.”

“They scare me, too.”

She looked up at him, confused. 

“I thought Spider-Man didn’t get scared?”

Peter closed his eyes, his jaw clenching.

“Everyone’s allowed to get scared sometimes,” Tony said, moving to sit on the couch beside them. “Even Spider-Man.”

He reached down and grabbed the blanket off the floor, spreading it out so it covered the three of them. Peter shuffled back and leaned into the cushions, as Morgan curled herself up beside him.

“Does Spider-Man get scared of the bad guys, Pete?” Morgan said, arms still wrapped tightly around him. 

“No. Bad guys don’t scare him.” Peter met Tony’s gaze. “He just...he’s just afraid of losing the people he cares about.”

“When I have a bad dream, I imagine Spider-Man and Ironman coming to save me when I wake up,” Morgan mumbled into his chest. “Then I’m not scared anymore.”

Peter laughed, stroking her head. 

“Yeah? That’s funny. I imagine  _ you _ coming to save  _ me _ .”

Morgan smiled, closing her eyes. Tony noticed Peter’s breathing slowing, synchronising with hers as she started to drift off. 

When he was sure Morgan was asleep, he nudged Peter gently. 

“Does, uh, Spider-Man wanna talk about it?” 

Peter swallowed. He bit his lip, looking at Tony with a strained smile.

“I just...ever since, you know, what happened...I keep thinking...god, it’s stupid.”

“Did you not hear me earlier, kid? None of this is stupid.”

Peter nodded, took a breath. 

“I know, I know, I just...can’t help but worry, you know? Like, how do I know this is...this?”

Tony’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...what if I’m not actually here? How do I know that this isn’t just Beck making me see what he wants me to see? How do I know this is  _ real _ ?”

Beneath the blanket, Tony clenched his fist. For a moment, he wished Quentin Beck wasn’t dead, so he could find him and kill him himself. 

_ How could he have let this happen? To a kid? To this kid, who had already been through so much? _

Pulling himself away from the puddle of guilt and self-pity he was about to plunge into, he put his hand on Peter’s shoulder, squeezed hard. 

“ _ This  _ is real, kid. I’m real, Morgan's real. We’re safe."

"What if we're not, though? What if - what if I failed again, and -"

"Kid, listen to me. You have not failed. I promise you, nothing here is an illusion. You're here, you're safe. S o am I, so are Morgan and Pepper, and May, and your friends, and so are all the other people Spider-Man cares about.  Use your super...spider tingle thing. Any alarms going off right now?”

Peter paused, looking out into the darkness of the room. After a minute, he shook his head. 

“Exactly. Trust your gut, kid.”

Peter nodded. 

“Thanks,” he whispered, the word escaping on a breath of relief.

He closed his eyes and leaned into Tony’s side, turning his face slightly so it was nestled into Tony's shoulder. Tony wondered, briefly, just where this trust in him had come from, this unwavering faith.  He wondered if he deserved it. 

“C-can you stay?” Peter mumbled.

“Never intended on going anywhere.”

“Will you wake me, if the nightmare starts again?”

“It’s not gonna start again."  He gave Pete's shoulder another light squeeze.  "Trust me, I know.”


	2. The Birthday Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter really hates drones.   
> Like, really hates them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Hope everyone's well and not going insane in quarantine!   
> I was so blown away by all the lovely feedback I got for the first chapter! Writing this one was actually a lot harder and I'm not sure about the end result, which is why I've posted the next chapter at the same time.   
> Hope you enjoy, and as always comments and constructive criticism is very welcome!
> 
> *Trigger warning: mentions of terrorism/bombings*

It became a ritual, after that. It passed between them whenever the memories of Mysterio resurfaced. 

When they didn’t come as nightmares, loud and panicked and screaming, they came quietly. Silent and sudden, barely noticeable, hidden behind a distant look, an uncertain smile, a clenched jaw. When they came like that, Tony did his best to bring Peter back to reality just as quietly, without drawing attention to it.

Like when Morgan knocked a glass off the dinner table, and Peter flinched and sucked in a sharp gasp as it shattered on the floor. 

_ (“Hey kid, wanna try sticking it back together with some web fluid? Like you did with Pep’s vase after I broke it, remember? She still hasn’t noticed that. No, no, no, Morgan, honey, do not go tell Mommy -”) _

And that evening when Pepper accidentally switched the light off while they were still on the sofa, the kid’s whole body immediately going tense beside him in the split second of darkness.

_ (“Fancy watching Lord of the Rings before we go to bed, Pete? Those were the first movies you ever forced me to sit and watch with you, remember? And then you renamed the shield in my suit the ‘You Shall Not Pass’ protocol. I left it like that, by the way. It, uh, grew on me.”) _

Or when they were patching up Peter’s suit before he went back on patrol for the first time in a month, Peter white as a sheet and barely talking while they repaired bullet holes and replaced charred tech. 

_ (“How come you’ve never shown me this before? I mean, the wings? Inspired. You've come a long way from that first session in the lab. Remember that? We worked on your web shooters. The web fluid exploded all over me, you had to unstick my hand from the workbench.”) _

Every time, Peter would breathe shakily, glazed eyes refocusing as he gave Tony a small smile of thanks. 

It...seemed to help. Eventually, Tony was actively trying to remember things, things only he would know, putting them all into an emergency list.  Once Peter started going on patrol again, though, the memories resurfaced less often. Tony supposed being back out in the field, being Spider-Man again, was helping Peter process whatever shit Beck had put into his head.

However, Tony still updated his list, still kept it memorised for whenever the kid might need him. 

As he did, for instance, right the fuck now. 

* * *

“You hear me, kid?”

Tony was in a jet, watching New York fly by below as Happy flew them towards the East River. His jaw clenched as he saw the smoke rising up ahead.

_ “Mr Stark! Hey!”  _ Peter’s voice chirped in Tony’s ear, a stark contrast to the chaos he could hear in the background.

“Sup, Spiderling. Alright, I’m on my way, give me the rundown.”

_ “Uh -”  _ A particularly loud crash did nothing to reassure Tony as Peter spoke over the comms.  _ “OK, guy on the bridge, not happy about losing his job after the Blip, said his wife ran off with someone else - ” _

“Yeah, I’ll read your book report of his life story later, kid. Why don’t you tell me more about the bombs?”

_ “Oh, yeah, right, sorry, uh...two bombs still active, homemade but they’ve got a kick. The third one totalled the south side.” _

“Civilians?”

“ _ Mostly clear, but I’m still working on it.” _

The Whitestone Bridge was coming into view, Happy weaving the jet around police helicopters and swarms of drones to bring them closer. Smoke billowed from the collapsed end of the bridge, metal beams collapsing into the water while scattered civilians wove through rubble and wrecked cars to escape.

“And where’s our heartbroken, unemployed friend?”

_ “Tied up.” _

Tony chuckled. F.R.I.D.A.Y pinpointed the bomber and brought up an image on the screen. The guy was stuck in what must have been an incredibly uncomfortable position on the underside of a flipped car. What looked like the result of a web grenade completely covered his chest, and his hands and feet were bound together.

“Copy that, I see him. Did you get the detonator?” 

_ “No, I left it in the hands of an unstable asshole.” _

“Hope you don’t give May that kind of backtalk, kid.”

_ “Uh, no offence, sir, but please tell me you didn’t just come for a quick chat?” _

Tony smirked.

“Why, am I boring you, Parker?”

He flipped a switch on the control panel and the underside of the jet opened, releasing dozens of airborne nanobot units which rocketed towards the bridge. They fastened themselves to the most unstable sections, waves of bots spreading over the structure and stopping any more of it from tumbling into the river.

_ “Awesome! Thanks!” _

Tony finally spotted a familiar flash of black and red. Peter was a few metres away from the gaping hole where the bridge used to meet Queens, pushing an overturned truck out of the road to let a queue of cars get through. As they sped off to safety, Peter caught sight of them, jumping up on top of the truck and waving.

_ “Hey! Nice jet! You, uh, mind finding those bombs I told you about?”  _

“Sensors are picking up another device on the north side,” Happy muttered, tapping the screen.

“Be a doll and send some nanobots over there to deactivate it, would you?”

“Already on their way.”

“And the other one? F.R.I?” 

There was a pause and a quiet click before the AI spoke. 

“My sensors do not detect another device.”

_ “What?”  _ Peter said, pausing as he led a group of civilians away from the crumbling edge. _ “No, no, there’s another one.”  _

“You sure, Pete?” Happy asked. 

_ “Yeah! I heard it!” _

“Something might be cloaking it,” Tony said. “Any idea where it is?”

_ “Uh...I don’t know, I can’t - there’s too much noise, I’ve lost it.” _

“F.R.I, run an amplified scan, find that thing.”

“Yes, boss.”

_ “Sir, I’ve got injured civilians here, any chance you could give ‘em a ride?” _

“Well, since we’re heading that way anyway. Hap, set her down.”

* * *

Peter ran to meet them as they stepped off the jet.

“You did good, kid,” Tony said, careful not to say his name as he clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

Once the rest of the people trapped on the bridge had been airlifted off, it was only twenty minutes before the area was fully secured and they were starting to wrap things up. Peter was still in his suit, mask and all, hiding his face from the dozens of helicopters and camera drones hovering in the air above them. 

The whirring they made followed them as they walked towards where Peter had left the bomber, Happy walking slightly behind and shouting over the noise down the phone.

“Shame Ironman didn’t make an appearance,” Peter said. 

“I did bring a suit, but, uh, Spider-Man seemed to have it covered.”

“Should’ve got here earlier. Where was the other bomb?”

Tony shrugged. 

“There was no other bomb, kid. F.R.I.D.A.Y ran, like, ten scans.”

The eyes of the mask narrowed, and Peter shook his head. 

“I was sure...I could have sworn I heard more than one.”

“A lot was happening,” Tony said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You took care of it. Made it a bit boring for me, if I’m honest. Try not to be so efficient, next time, leave something for the rest of us to do.”

Peter laughed, stopping just behind Tony as they reached the bomber. The cops were already there, standing impatiently next to the overturned car. 

“Spider-Man. Mr Stark,” the sergeant said, stepping forward. “Wanna let this guy go so we can arrest him, or do we need to take the whole car?”

“Yeah, sorry, guys,” Peter said. “One sec.”

He clicked a button on his web shooters and jumped up onto the car. He aimed at the webbing which coated the bomber’s torso, the white strands falling apart as he sprayed them with the dissolving solution.

The guy toppled down onto the road, where he was dragged to his feet by a cop who began replacing the webs around his wrists with actual cuffs. 

“This is on you. You ruined my life, Stark,” the guy spat.

Tony just raised his eyebrows.

“Yeah? Send a DM next time. Bombs aren’t the most efficient forms of communication, they come across a little aggressive.”

The guy jerked with a furious snarl, managing to get one hand out of the cop’s grasp. He reached into his coat, pulling something out and throwing it.

“ _ Get down! _ ”

The next few seconds were a blur. 

Tony was pulled back, thrown to the ground, Happy’s weight landing on top of him. He hit the floor awkwardly, the air knocked out of him.

There was a hiss, a click. A second of silence. 

A bang.

Then the sound of his own blood, pulsing.

_ Peter. Peter. Peter.  _

* * *

He wasn’t dead. 

He may or may not have blacked out for a second, but he wasn’t dead.

Why wasn’t he dead?

Ears ringing, Tony pushed Happy off and rolled over, discarding his sunglasses and squinting up at where Peter had just been standing. The sunlight made spots float in his vision.

“Is everybody OK?”

Tony choked on a breath. 

That was Peter. That was his voice. That was him, leaping over the confused cops sprawled across the ground. That was Peter, knelt beside him, the concern on his face somehow visible through the mask. Those were Peter’s hands on his shoulders, strong and steady.

“Mr Stark? Sir, are you OK?!”

Tony blinked as Peter hauled him to his feet, still breathless.

“Mr Stark?!”

“Yeah,” Tony said, drawing in a strangled gasp. “I’m OK.”

Peter left him for a moment to help Happy. Dazed, Tony turned to find all four cops on top of the bomber, restraining him, while a white, tangled blob of webbing bubbled on the ground a few feet away. 

“Sir?” 

Peter was back now, standing in front of him, the eyes of his mask wide.

“K-kid?”

“Sir, I think you should sit -”

“No, I just...what just happened? What...what is  _ that _ ?!”

He waved his hand at the ball of webbing still sizzling on the ground, in the spot where the bomb should have landed and _blown them all up_. Peter tugged at the bottom of the mask, looking down at his feet. 

“That’s the, uh...that’s the Bubble Wrap Protocol.”

“The what?”

The eyes of the mask shrunk and expanded again with a quiet whir.

“It’s...a new formula. Shock absorbent. I designed it to be bomb absorbent, actually, but, uh, that’s the first time it’s been tested, you know, for reals.”

“Woah, woah, woah, just...wait.”  Tony’s head was hurting, and he wasn’t sure if it was the stress or the confusion or if Happy had accidentally given him a concussion.  “You mean you…actually, yeah, I need to sit down, that’s a good call.”

He wobbled, and Peter caught him with a yelp, slowly lowering him to the floor. Tony’s head spun, his vision tilting dangerously. 

“Mr Stark?! Are you - ”

“Fine, kid. Just...just need a minute.”

Peter was crouched beside him, hands twitching, ready to reach out and catch him if he passed out. 

“You - you designed a formula strong enough to stop a bomb exploding?”

“Well, it doesn’t stop it. It just, you know, contains it.”

“Huh. Hence...bubble wrap.”

Peter nodded.

“Hence bubble wrap.”

Following the sound of a furious yell, Tony looked up to see the bomber being shoved somewhat forcefully into the back of a police car. Happy, already up and his suit only slightly ruffled, was standing talking to the sergeant. 

Tony turned back to Peter. 

“ _ Shit _ . I guess we should be glad it works.”

* * *

It was too quiet.

They were back on the jet. Happy was up front, talking on the phone again as he flew them back to the compound, while Tony was sitting across from Peter in the back, playing with his hands and looking out of the window and losing his mind a little bit because the kid was  _ too damn quiet. _

“Alright, Parker, spill. What’s wrong?”

Peter glanced up. 

The mask was off now, his hair comically frizzy and falling above his eyes. He offered Tony a very clearly fake smile and shrugged. 

“Nothing, sir.”

“Just to recap, here. You just pretty much single-handedly caught a terrorist, rescued dozens of people, and invented a substance capable of absorbing the impact of an explosion.”

“From a homemade bomb, sir. A kind of crappy homemade bomb.”

“I think you’re missing the point here, Pete. Happy, is he missing the point?”

“He’s missing the point,” Happy yelled, swivelling slightly in his chair.

“See. Not just me.”

Peter stood up and paced to the other end of the jet, wringing his mask in his hands. 

“Sorry, kid, I just expected you to...you know, have a bit more of a bouncing-off-the-walls kinda vibe? I mean, you haven’t even texted Ned, that’s a cause for…”

Tony trailed off, catching a look at the kid’s face as he turned back around.

It was that look. The tension in his shoulders. The way he blew out a stuttering breath, the way he met Tony’s gaze without really looking at him, his mind’s eye seeing something else entirely.

Tony stood up, taking a few cautious steps towards him. 

“May’s birthday, Pete. You wanted to make her a cake from scratch, remember? But it went wrong, and you had no idea why, so we went out and bought a ready-mix instead, even though you thought that was cheating. You were so worried someone would realise. Cake turned out great, though. No-one suspected a thing.”

Peter released the breath he had been holding. Shoulders trembling with the effort of holding back a sob, he nodded stiffly, pressing the balls of his hands into his eyes. Tony moved forward, taking hold of his wrists and pulling his hands down gently.

“Kid, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I-it was the drones.”

“The drones?”

Peter nodded, another breath breaking over his lips. 

“They - they were so loud. I couldn’t - I knew I heard it, but they started coming and there were so many, they just drowned it out and I had to -”

“Woah, kid, slow down. It’s alright. What did the drones drown out?”

“The bomb. The other one, the one he had in his pocket. I heard it, I  _ knew _ I heard it, but then it didn’t show up on the scans and I - I had to save those people, I just - ”

“You did save them, Pete.”

“No, you don’t understand. I just realised why. Why it didn’t show up, why F.R.I.D.A.Y couldn’t find it. It was because of me, Mr Stark, the new formula I made. I tied him up with webs made out of it, they must have shielded the device in his pocket, somehow, stopped the scans being able to pick it up.  _ God _ , sir, I almost killed -”

“Nope, nuh-uh, gonna stop you right there.”

Tony reached for him, but Peter flinched, taking a step back.

“Peter? Hey, c’mon, kid, look at me.”

Peter met Tony’s gaze.

“This is not your fault. None of this was your fault. You saved everybody on that bridge. That formula? The Bubble Wrap? Kid, that saved me, and Happy, and all those cops, and even that twisted bastard.”

“It could have killed you, too! I should have checked he had nothing else on him - I  _ heard  _ it, sir, I could hear the second bomb when I first got there, but then the drones started coming, and - god, they got in my head, I lost focus - ”

“Pete, you’ve literally got super-hearing. I’m not surprised you couldn’t hear - ”

“No, I meant - I didn’t -  _ shit. _ ”

Peter sucked in a breath, running his hand through his hair. 

“They reminded me of Beck, sir. Of being stood on that bridge in London, all those drones coming towards me, the  _ noise _ of it. I should - god, I should be over this by now, right?”

Tony’s jaw clenched.

“Kid, you went through some heavy shit, that’s not just gonna...go away, just like that.”

“ _ When  _ will it go away, sir? When does it stop, because I can’t - I can’t risk something like this happening again. I can’t keep nearly losing - god, I can’t - ”

“Kid! Breathe. It’s alright. You’re not gonna lose anything. This wasn’t your fault, OK? If - big, fat if - _if_ the web formula stopped the bomb showing up on the scans, then we’ll work on it, make sure it doesn’t happen again. But kid, you synthesised this formula, all on your own, and you saved all those lives. Do _not_ beat yourself up for that. The drones being there...yeah, OK, that dredged up some bad stuff, but that didn’t stop you getting the job _done_. And, you know, looking kind of badass doing it.”

A smile flickered across the kid’s face. 

“I can’t say when...you know, when this stuff going on in your head will stop happening kid, because I don’t know. But I do know that you are _ not  _ weaker because of it. It doesn’t make you any less of a hero. I am still  _ so _ goddamn proud of you.”

“OK.” Peter swallowed, nodding and sitting back down. “OK. Thanks, sir.”

Tony smiled, sitting himself in the seat next to him.

“Pretty sure I should be saying that to you, kid. You stopped a bomb going off in my face today.”

Peter laughed, mouth twitching into a small smile.

“Can’t let anything happen to your face. Pepper would never forgive me.” 

“No, she wouldn't. And honestly, I don’t think the world would have been able to cope.”


	3. The Nanny Cam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wasn't answering his phone. Tony was very close to losing his shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!  
> So I was planning on updating this fic weekly, but I've decided to post this chapter and the previous one together because I wasn't sure I liked the last one, but this one was probably one of the easiest things I've ever written.   
> Like, I've sent texts that took longer to edit than this chapter did. Guess I'm a sucker for the drama...  
> As always, constructive criticism and your wonderful comments are more than welcome!  
> Stay safe!

_ Monday _

_ (Photo sent at 15:40) _

_ (16:12) What, not even an emoji? I thought you loved Spider-Man memes?  _

_ (16:16) :) _

_ Tuesday _ __

_ (16:39) Hey kid. F.R.I’s been telling me all about Web Formula Mark 19. When do I get to see it for myself? _

_ (16:48) I heard it can put out fires? That‘s good work, I‘m impressed. _

_ (17:50) Sorry I haven‘t been in touch for a while, by the way. Apparently texting during international defence negotiations is “unprofessional”.  _

_ (17:52) Pep’s the one doing the important stuff, anyway. I mostly just sit here and look pretty and enjoy the complementary lunches I’m providing. _

_ (19:04) Morgan says hi.  _

_ (19:05) She’s got a new Lego set she’s excited to get started on. She asked if you’re free this weekend? We’re coming back from Belgium on Friday, so we can pick you up on the way home. _

_ (22:32) You alright, kid?  _

_ Wednesday _

_ (09:37) Morning, Parker. May tells me you’re staying at Ned’s. I assume you two were up all night talking about girls or whatever and that’s why you’re ignoring your favourite mentor.  _

_ (09:38) Otherwise I’d be worried.  _

_ (09:41) Just let me know you’re OK when you get this.  _

_ (Missed call at 13:04) _

_ (Missed call at 14:20) _

_ (14:23) Seriously, kid, you’re still asleep? Didn’t realise spiders were nocturnal.  _

_ (14:28) Just googled it and it turns out they actually are. I guess we finally found an explanation for your back-to-front sleep schedule, Spiderling. _

_ (14:39) Text me when you’re up.  _

_ (15:20) Rise and shine, kid. _

_ (Missed call at 15:47) _

_ (Missed call at 16:50) _

_ (Voice message left at 16:53) _

_ “Hey Pete. Just checking in. I’d assume you weren’t getting my messages but I designed your phone, so that’s not possible. Just, uh, for the love of God, text your Aunt. She just asked me if I’ve flown you to another major European airport to throw shit at Captain America again.” _

_ (18:12) You out on patrol kid? _

_ (Voice message left at 19:02)  _

_ “Hi Pete. It’s Morgan on Daddy’s phone. Um, can you come visit this weekend? I got a new Lego set but it’s too hard for me to do without you. And I need your help for a project. It’s about insects. I know spiders are arachnids, not insects, but Miss Harvey said I can still write about them. Everyone else is scared of them but I‘m not. I miss you! OK, bye.” _

_ (21:59) Where are you, kid? _

_ Thursday _

_ (00:25) Peter, let me know where you are. _

_ (Missed call at 01:14) _

_ (Missed call at 04:32) _

_ (Missed call at 09:35) _

_ (Voice message left at 10:40) _

_ “Parker, pick up the damn phone. I know you’re not at Ned’s. I phoned him and he said he hasn’t seen you in days. Call me and I might not ground your ass.” _

_ (Voice message left at 12:36) _

_ “Peter, this isn’t funny. Where are you, and why is the tracker in your phone disabled? Why don’t you have your suit with you? Call me, now.” _

_ (Missed call at 14:04) _

_ (Voice message left at 16:49)  _

_ “Kid, please, just call me. I’m flying back right now. I want you sat waiting on the doorstep of the compound when I get there.” _

_ (Voice message left at 20:59) _

_ “I’m sorry, alright? If this is because I haven’t been texting lately, I’m sorry. I don’t blame you if you’re mad, but kid, this is starting to freak me out. Whatever it is, whatever trouble you’re in, just...let me help. Please. Just...just please, come home.”  _

_ Friday _ __

_ (Voice message left at 04:18)  _

_ “Kid, if you get this, I just...if you’ve been taken, or if you’re hurt, just know we’re looking for you, we’re gonna get to you. I’m not gonna stop searching. Just try to give us a sign to let us know where you are. I...I’ll find you. I promise.” _

_ (Voice message left at 05:00) _

_ “Remember when you and Morgan drew a moustache on Happy while he was sleeping, kid? Morgan said it was her idea, but I know it was you. I was watching through the nanny cam. I never told you. I mean, it was obvious anyway. You were so pissed you were the baby _ sat _ , not the babysitter, even though you had a broken leg. Don’t worry, though, I never told Happy. I just...god. Please, Pete. Please just...come home.“  _

_ (23:45) i’m ok. sorry _

* * *

Peter’s phone started buzzing moments after the message was sent. 

He pulled it back out of his pocket and paused, briefly considering picking up when he saw the caller ID. Behind the photo, the app icons on his home screen pulsed with hundreds of notifications.

He declined the call, turning his attention back to the street below. He could deal with it all later. 

Not even back in his pocket this time, the phone started buzzing again. With an impatient sigh, he accepted the call and held the phone up to his ear, his free hand holding him steady where he was perched on the roof.

“Hello?” 

_ “Peter?! Pete, what - yeah, it’s him, he’s there, he’s - kid, are you alright?” _

“Uh, yeah?”

_ “Oh my - god, thank god - Peter, where are you?!” _

“I’m just about to head back to the compound. What’s going on, sir?”

_ “What’s - what’s going on? What’s going on?! Jesus fuck, just - just stay where you are.” _

“It’s fine, I’ll only be twenty min - ”

_ “Stay where you are!” _

Tony cut off the call. 

Peter guessed he had messed up. Probably spectacularly.

Grimacing, he put his phone back in the pocket of the stealth suit, keeping his eyes trained on the sea of red and blue lights below him. The raid had ended an hour ago, but he wanted to stay to make sure every single one of those bastards was arrested. He’d spent a whole week collecting the evidence against them, he wasn’t about to leave the job without making sure it was properly finished. 

To be fair, he was tempted. He just felt...drained. Six days of being constantly cold, of only catching a few minutes of sleep at a time, of watching these guys doing what they were doing, pretending to be a part of it...all he wanted to do was sleep. Shower, then sleep. 

Distantly, he heard a suit rocketing towards him. With a reluctant groan, Peter turned and leapt a few roofs over, ignoring the dull ache in his shoulder whenever he moved his arm. 

Getting beat up sucked. _ Letting yourself _ get beat up sucked even more.

The suit landed with a thunk a few metres away, and Peter flinched, ears ringing. His senses were teetering dangerously on the edge of an overload, courtesy of the exhaustion and the build up of six days’ worth of tension. 

“Explain. Now.”

The suit strode towards him, the clanking of metal on concrete making Peter’s ears hurt even more. He wondered if Tony was doing it on purpose, making the suit stamp particularly forcefully from wherever he was controlling it. 

With an exasperated sigh, he took off his mask to reveal the frankly impressive bruise below his right eye, fiddling with the fabric in his fingers and not meeting the suit’s gaze. 

“You found out about the tracker, huh?”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. “Uh, you might need to be a bit more specific. A lot’s happened.”

“Are - are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jeez, man, what?”

The suit opened, and Peter swore his heart stopped for a second when Tony stepped out. Tony, who - for the whole year and a bit since Thanos - had been  _ too old for suits now, kid, though thankfully I’ve retained my youthful glow _ . Tony, who was now out, in a suit, looking very much like he had that day on the ferry all those years ago, with a glow that had gone from  _ youthful _ to downright terrifying.

“Kid, I need you to start talking.”

His voice was quiet and low, too steady. 

“I don’t understand.”

“Oh, you don’t?” Tony said, walking towards him slowly. “Fine. Fuck it, I’ll talk. So, let’s recap - you went missing. For six days. None of us had a clue where you were, we were worried out of our minds, and now you really need to explain to me what the  _ fuck  _ is going on before I lose my shit.”

“OK, OK! I, uh, I was undercover.”

Tony raised his eyebrows.

“I was tracking some guys who were stealing cars and stuff, no big deal, but then it turned into this whole...thing, you know? I swear, the cops were on it, but then the agent they sent in was killed, and I just - I couldn’t just do nothing!”

Tony held up his hand. 

“Wait, just... wait. You decided to go undercover, with no backup, for six days, without telling  _ anyone  _ what the fuck you were doing? And you thought this was a good idea?”

“I didn’t have a choice! You don’t - these were bad people, Mr Stark. Like, really bad. They were getting homeless people, homeless  _ kids _ , to steal shit for them, and then killing them after they did it, I had to - ”

“Oh, you  _ had  _ to?” Tony yelled. “You  _ had  _ to jump headfirst into danger without thinking about anyone else? You  _ had  _ to disable the tracker in your phone?”

“I wasn’t in any danger! I was just collecting evidence, I had it under control!”

“Oh, like hell you did!”

“You seriously think I didn’t have a plan? I disabled the tracker because I didn’t want any of you guys bursting in guns blazing and ruining the entire mission.“

“It was stupid and reckless, kid. Christ, I can’t believe you -“

“This was my fight, Mr Stark! _M_ _ y _ responsibility. These people were linked to Beck, somehow. They were collecting parts for weapons, weapons they were gonna use on the Avengers, sir, on you!”

“So your great plan was for you, Spider-Man, an  _ Avenger _ , to deal with this alone?”

“Of course not! I was  _ undercover _ . I posed as just another homeless kid, they had me doing deliveries - ” 

“ _ What?” _

Peter swallowed. He turned away, looking out over the rooftops.

“You mean... you went undercover, alone, with no suit...around people linked to the man who almost  _ killed you _ a few months ago... as  _ Peter fucking Parker _ ?”

“Yeah, sir, I’m completely stupid. Obviously I used a fake identity, you think I’d just - ”

“Jesus.  _ Jesus _ . Of all the stupid things you’ve done -”

“Mr Stark, I’m not a kid!”

“Oh, you sure about that?!”

“I can take care of myself, I didn’t  _ need  _ any help!”

“With stolen bikes and street muggings, sure! But you’re part of a team, Pete, and this? This is the sort of shit you  _ call us in for. _ ”

“The Avengers have way more important stuff to be dealing with right now! I wasn’t gonna call you away from stopping  _ literal wars _ from happening because of a few stolen cars. By the time I realised how big this was, there was no time to call for backup.”

“One phone call, kid. God, a text! One text! That’s all I would’ve needed.”

“Hey, that’s funny!” 

Peter jumped over onto the opposite roof, turning back to face Tony.

“I could have used one text too, you know, at some point in the past  _ month _ . I know you’re busy, sir, and that’s OK, I get it. But don’t yell at me for not letting you know where I was going, when you wouldn’t have even noticed I was gone.”

“That...you know I would have noticed. That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the fucking point? I stopped the bad guys, isn’t that all that matters?”

“What  _ matters _ , kid, is the fact you vanished off the face of the earth for six days. Six days, Peter! And I didn’t know where you were, and you weren’t answering your damn phone. You have no idea...you could have - you could have been kidnapped, or tortured, or fucking dead, and I couldn’t do a single goddamn thing. I was...I was about to tell Morgan you might not be coming back, Pete. I was about to tell my daughter that you might be gone. Do you...do you have  _ any _ fucking idea?”

Peter flinched at Morgan’s name. 

“I-I’m sorry, I just - I didn’t - ”

“What, you didn’t think? You didn’t think about May, or Morgan, or your friends? About me?”

Peter swallowed. 

“Well, here’s what I’ve been thinking. I thought I lost you, kid. I thought you had been taken from me, again. I thought I had failed to protect you,  _ again _ .”

Peter hated himself for it, he really did. In the back of his mind, there was a little voice telling him he should just apologise. Go home, hug May, read Morgan her bedtime story, make this better. But the exhaustion, the terror, the anger that had been boiling inside of him for the past week suddenly bubbled over.

“I don’t need you to protect me! I don’t  _ want _ you to protect me! This was me protecting  _ you _ ! And May, and Morgan, and Pepper and my friends, and all the people those assholes conned into working for them. You know, while you guys have been having polite discussions and shaking hands, in the real world there are bad things happening every day. There are people - real people - who need help. Why am I getting shit for being the only one to stop all that bad stuff happening, the only  _ hero  _ who’s actually there for people like them?”

“Kid, I don’t - this isn’t - ”

“You know what? I don’t care.” Peter put on his mask, hands shaking. “Go carry on signing papers, I’m going home.”

“Pete, wait!”

Peter jumped off the building and shot a web, swinging as fast as he could. 

As he climbed into the apartment ( _ the new apartment, the one Ben had never walked in, the one May said was their new home but felt like the furthest thing from it _ ), he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He took it out, switched it off, and slammed the window shut behind him. 

* * *

“Tony, calm down.”

“How the fuck am I meant to calm down, May?”

She didn’t even flinch when he turned and snapped at her, just folded her arms and raised her eyebrows as if  _ he  _ was the petulant teenager who’d just run off,  _ again _ . 

He made a mental note to apologise to her later, sitting down on the sofa with a frustrated growl and holding his head in his hands.

“This is all my fault. God, we  _ just _ found him, and what the fuck do I do? I lose my shit and push him further away.”

“It’s not your fault you got angry,” May said, sitting down beside him. “Believe me, if it had been me on that rooftop, I’d have said far worse.”

“You’re allowed to. You’re his aunt. You’re his family.”

She sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Tony, you know you are too.”

He stood up and started pacing again, looking out the window of the tower and running a hand through his hair.

“He’s right, though. I mean, what kind of a mentor - family - whatever figure am I? I’ve been sitting in pointless meetings, debating useless technicalities, while Peter has been out there actually making a difference. Why is he the one who’s had to bear that?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” May said, “I don’t think I have ever been more furious with that boy in my entire life. Even when he did a “science experiment” in my wardrobe when he was seven that resulted in some of my best clothes getting covered in slime.”

Tony let out a grim chuckle. 

“But the whole thing with Mysterio...hit him hard. He thinks it’s his fight, you know?”

“But it’s not! He should know better than this - he  _ does  _ know better. He knows we’ve got his back.”

May sighed. “This is...different. Ben used to say this thing to him. ‘Always clean up your own messes’. I mean, back then he was talking about, you know, the slime.”

Tony allowed himself an actual laugh. 

“But now, after what happened with Beck, I think...I think he wants, or, feels like he needs, to sort this out himself. To make it right. That’s just who Peter is. He’s just...forgotten that Ben and I helped him clean up the slime.”

He sighed, meeting her gaze with desperate eyes. 

“So what do we do?”

She shrugged, gave him a smile that spoke of grim resignation.

“We wait for him to remember.”

He swallowed, then shook his head, grabbing his jacket from the back of the sofa and striding towards the door. 

“Screw that. I’m gonna make him.”

* * *

_ “Peter, this isn’t funny. Where are you, and why is the tracker in your phone disabled? Why don’t you have your suit with you? Call me, now.” _

Peter could still feel his heart racing. He sat cross-legged on his bed, fists clenched and eyes tight shut as he listened to Tony’s messages. 

Before Spider-Man, he’d hit the wall of his bedroom on the rare occasion he got angry. Scratch that. The  _ one  _ occasion he got angry. The pain in his hand and the complete lack of any satisfaction from leaving at least a dent in the wall had been more than enough to dissuade him from ever doing it again. 

Right now, though, he’d be willing to give it another shot, if his hand wouldn’t go right through the plaster and out to the living room.

_ “I’m sorry, alright? If this is because I haven’t been texting lately, I’m sorry. I don’t blame you if you’re mad, but kid, this is starting to freak me out. Whatever it is, whatever trouble you’re in, just...let me help. Please. Just...just please, come home.”  _

He wasn’t angry at Tony anymore. He wasn’t angry at the bastards he’d gotten arrested earlier, either - although he was sure seeing their asses in jail wouldn’t hurt. 

No, he was angry at himself. Angry at how utterly fucking stupid he was, and angry that for some stupid reason, he couldn’t get his head straight. 

He didn’t deserve any of this. He didn’t deserve May, he didn’t deserve his powers, and he certainly didn’t deserve everything Tony had done for him. Ever since Thanos’ snap was undone, Tony had been the one picking up the pieces, keeping entire nations from tearing each other apart, and Peter had done absolutely nothing to help, had only created more messes for Tony to deal with.

Beck was right.

God, his head hurt. 

He reached for the phone, wanting to switch it off again and throw it out of the window, try to block out the flood of sensory input bombarding him from  _ everywhere _ , when the last message started to play.

_ “Remember when you and Morgan drew a moustache on Happy while he was sleeping, kid? Morgan said it was her idea, but I know it was you. I was watching through the nanny cam. I never told you. I mean, it was obvious anyway. You were so pissed you were the baby _ sat _ , not the babysitter, even though you had a broken leg. Don’t worry, though, I never told Happy. I just...god. Please, Pete. Please just...come home.“ _

Peter’s breath hitched. He listened to the message over again, the words stirring up memories he forgot he had. The frustration and embarrassment when Happy had carried him upstairs, casted leg lolling awkwardly over his arm and  _ bonk _ ing against the wall; Morgan, stood in the doorway, suppressing her giggles as he snuck towards Happy as he slept, marker in hand; the laughs of the team the day after, when Happy had finally caught his reflection in a window after a training session. 

He suddenly needed to move, more than he’d ever needed to do anything in his life. He needed to see May, and Tony, and Morgan - God, he needed to see Morgan - he needed to be with them and never be so far away from them ever, ever again.

He jumped off the bed and grabbed his web shooters, almost forgetting to put the mask back on in his hurry. Cursing, he grabbed it and yanked it over his head as he opened the door. Vision momentarily blocked, he yelped as he ran into something blocking his path to the corridor, hitting out wildly.

“Woah, what the - kid!”

Peter stopped his fist before he could throw it and caught Tony as he stumbled backwards. He pulled his mask off, staring at Tony like it was their first meeting all over again.

He wasn’t stepping out of a suit with fire behind his eyes, this time. As he met Peter’s gaze, Tony’s eyes were swimming with worry, and exhaustion, and relief. 

“M-Mr Stark?”

“Pete? What are you -”

He was cut off when Peter threw his arms around him, the force of it almost sending him falling again. After a moment of stunned silence, Tony returned the hug, holding Peter tightly and pressing a kiss into his hair. 

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“Pete, I - God, me too. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“I didn’t mean what I said, any of it,” Peter said, the words spilling out on top of frantic breaths. “I should have called you, I should have asked for help, I just - I couldn’t - ”

“I know, kid,” Tony said, reluctantly breaking the hug and looking Peter in the eye. “I know, it’s OK. I’m just - God, I’m so glad you’re OK.  _ Never _ do that again.”

“I won’t sir, I promise.”

Tony laughed, pulling Peter into another hug.

“Is May mad?”

“She’s helping Pepper look after Morgan, so that should give you a good head start if you start running now.”

Peter laughed, before his whole body suddenly tensed. 

“Morgan! Is she - does she know that I’m - ”

“Didn’t even know you were gone,” Tony soothed, putting his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Let’s, uh, let’s keep it that way, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, right.”

“She’s been threatening to start that Lego set without you, by the way. You better hurry.”

“Can we go now?”

“Car’s outside, kid.”

Peter headed back to his room to put away the mask, but Tony held him in place. 

“Hey! Hold up, Spiderling.”

Shuffling impatiently, Peter turned back around to look at him. 

“You were right,” Tony said. “About the Avengers, and the people they should be saving. The  _ real  _ people. We’re gonna do better. You know, for the little guy. I promise. As a team. And you’re gonna be there, leading us.”

Peter’s brow furrowed. He drew back, shaking his head. 

“Sir, I can’t - ”

“Yes, you can,” Tony said, holding him still. “You’re right, I need to stop treating you like a kid. You got mad skills, Parker. It’s time we put them to some good use, together.”

Peter nodded, an uncertain smile flickering across his face. He threw the mask down on the couch and they started walking down the stairs. 

“I know you said you’d stop treating me like a kid, sir, but we can still get ice cream on the way home, right?”

Tony laughed, putting a hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

“Obviously. What do you take me for?”


	4. A drink in a hotel room (and the one of the things only MJ would know)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony had an idea. He was 100% certain it was a good one. Now all he needed to do was convince Peter that a trip to Europe wouldn't end in disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herein, the author presents:  
> \- Lots of fluff.  
> \- A light sprinkling of angst.  
> \- And a bucket load of free advertising for the city of London.   
> Enjoy :)

The kid was looking at him as if he had just grown another head. 

“A trip?”

“Yep.”

“With you?”

“Mm.”

“This weekend?”

“Well, we can’t go midweek, Morgan has swimming and ballet.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, the web shooter he was tinkering with still in his hand. “Why?”

“Why not?”

“Alright then,  _ where _ ?”

“Europe. Seeing as your last visit was, uh, unfortunately cut short.” 

Tony was trying his best to keep his voice light and casual, despite the fact he knew Peter could probably hear his heart going a mile a minute. 

“Sir, I...sorry, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“C’mon, kid, it’ll be fun. You, me, Morgan, May can come - ”

“May’s away with Happy this weekend.”

“Oh yeah. Ned?”

“Staying with family.”

Tony sighed, hoping it sounded genuine, because of course he already knew all this. 

“OK, what about, uh, that girl, what’s her name?”

Tony knew her name. Peter knew he knew her name, and Tony  _ knew _ Peter knew he knew her name, but Tony was trying to keep this light and casual and not let on to the fact he had already been in touch with  _ that girl _ , and she had already agreed to the idea. 

“MJ?”

“That’s it! MJ. MJ can come.”

Peter put the web shooter down, laughing in bewildered disbelief. 

“It’s...no, sir, we can’t just go on a random trip.”

“It won’t be random. It’ll be thoroughly planned.”

“Mr Stark, we don’t have  _ time _ to go to Europe! We’re busy, remember? Helping the little guy? Because for some reason you thought it would be a good idea to put me on the relief foundation board - ”

“It was a good idea, I stand by it.”

“- and I’ve got loads of work to do for the mental health initiative - ”

“Pepper can handle it.”

“ - and I still need to organise the team on the missing persons search - ”

“The clue’s in the name, kid, they’ll work it out.”

“ - and I...I’ve got homework.”

“Which you can do on the plane.”

Peter’s jaw clenched. His eyes darted around the workshop, as if searching for an excuse somewhere in the clutter that had accumulated around them. Tony watched, waiting, tapping his fingers on the table. 

_ Come on, kid. Trust me. _

Peter shifted uncomfortably under Tony’s gaze.

“Sir, I can’t.”

“Sure you can. I’ve got a lovely penthouse in Madrid - ”

“Mr Stark.” Peter’s voice wavered. “I  _ can’t _ .”

Tony sighed. He leaned forward, swiping away the hologram that was being projected between them. 

“OK. Real talk. Kid, you need this. You’ve been doing some amazing work the past few months, with the foundation and everything. Honestly, it’s more than I was ever expecting you to do. But I am telling you, as the world’s leading expert on burning out - like,  _ crashing _ and burning out - you need to give yourself a break.”

“OK, but Europe? Why not the lake house?”

“It’ll help with the work detox if you get as far away from the office as possible,” Tony said. “Plus, I don’t want you missing out on some of the greatest cities in the world because of everything that happened. It’ll be a chance for you to, you know, get outta the neighbourhood. See a bit of the world before you spend four years locked in a college dorm.”

Peter shook his head. “I’m not ready.”

“You know what they say about getting back on the horse after you fall off it, right?”

“I didn’t fall off the horse, sir. The horse gaslighted me, hit me with a train, and then tried to blow up England.”

“Yeah, but you  _ beat  _ the horse. The horse is no longer in the runnings, it fell at the final hurdle, it’s…you know what, never mind, that was a bad metaphor - ”

“What about Spider-Man?” Peter continued, gesturing at the suit laid out on the table in front of him. “He can’t just abandon the neighbourhood without warning.”

“Sam can cover for you. I’ll even dress him in red and blue spandex, if you want.”

Peter didn’t laugh, which was an immediate cause for concern because Peter loved it when Tony made fun of Sam, ever since the metal-winged asshole had swooped in and taken down a drug ring the kid had been tracking for eight months. Peter had, as payback, hacked into the computer system and changed Sam’s name in every record from ‘Falcon’ to ‘The Vulture’. Tony was pretty sure it was another pop-culture reference, but he had given up trying to keep track.

“Come on!”  _ Come on, kid. Come on, trust me.  _ “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Peter gave him a look that said he was very well acquainted with the worst that could happen, had been hit with some force by a train  _ full _ of the worst that can happen, and Tony groaned inwardly. 

_ Light and casual. Light and casual. _

“One weekend, kid. That’s all I’m asking.”

“And what if everything goes to shit on that one weekend?”

“Nothing is going to shit. I’ll be there with you, the team can manage things here. Plus, I, uh, kind of already told Morgan we’re going. So no backing out now, or you get to deal with the fallout.”

Peter cursed and hid his face in his hands. The way they were shaking slightly didn’t escape Tony’s attention. 

For days, Tony had been questioning whether this was a good idea. He had consulted with every responsible adult in the kid’s life, had even suffered the embarrassment of asking Barton for  _ a parent’s perspective  _ and the subsequent changing of his name in the Avengers group chat to 'Ironmom'. 

In the end, though, everyone had agreed with him. May, Happy, Pep, Barton (as well as everybody else in the Whatsapp group Clint had created and lovingly named ‘Momsnet’). Peter needed a break. 

Tony was only becoming more sure of that as he watched the kid now, saw the familiar signs of old memories stirring, memories that had been rearing their ugly heads much more often in the weeks since Peter had taken on his extra duties. Peter was curling in on himself, head twitching slightly towards sounds only he could hear. Tony had become adept at noticing it, though that fact didn’t stop his own heart clenching as he watched, saw the kid struggle with things that couldn’t be covered up with nanobots or solved with a few lines of code.

He knew this - his idea - wasn’t a mistake. Tony had vowed never to make a mistake ever again when it came to this kid. Never again.

“Pete?”

Peter peeked at him through his fingers. 

“We could go to Berlin, if you want? I could, uh, take you back to that market we went to. With the gingerbread? And this time you’ll actually be able to have a drink without hiding it from me in your room, the legal age in Germany is sixteen.”

Peter relaxed slowly, blowing a shaky breath into his hands. There was a pause, before he finally lowered them and met Tony’s gaze.

“May’s OK with this?”

“She’s actively encouraging it.”

“You won’t embarrass me in front of MJ?”

“Scout’s honour.”

Peter bit his lip. “And you’ll be there?”

“The whole time, kid. Promise.”

Peter threw his head back with a groan, and Tony span gleefully in his chair as the kid’s resolve finally crumpled. 

“ _ Fine _ . Fuck.”

Tony slapped the table in triumph. 

“There you go! So, where we heading? Paris? Barcelona?”

“London.”

Tony blinked. “Uh...are you sure about that, bud?”

Peter groaned again. “C’mon, sir, a minute ago you were talking about the horse and I just - ”

“No! That’s not - yeah! OK.” Not what he was expecting, but he could work with that. “Yeah! Let’s go to London. I’ll introduce you to my good friend, Lizzie.”

Peter rolled his eyes, picking up the web shooter and continuing to tinker.

“God, I’m gonna regret this.”

“No you won’t.”

“I’m dreading it already.”

“Have a little trust in your mentor, kid.”

“The same mentor who just said he’s on nickname terms with Elizabeth the second?”

“Which other contact would I have ‘Killer Queen’ for as a ringtone?”

* * *

_ For fuck’s sake. _

“Parker, what the hell is that?”

Peter looked up, shrinking slightly in his seat when he saw Tony glaring at the huge pile of papers laid out on the table in front of him. 

“Uh...minutes from the last foundation meeting?”

Tony finished stuffing his bag in the overhead locker and strode towards him, sitting down in the seat opposite. 

“Kid.” He slapped a hand on top of the papers. “When I said you could do your homework on the plane, I didn’t mean you could  _ actually  _ do your homework on the plane.”

“Was it a metaphor or something?”

Tony peered over Peter’s shoulder at the entrance to the jet. Pepper and May were already walking back towards the compound, and MJ and Morgan - newly introduced and quickly realising they were worthy verbal opponents for each other - were chatting in the doorway. 

He looked back at Peter, yanking the pen out of the kid’s hand and barely suppressing a victorious shout when he actually succeeded. 

“Sir, give that back.”

“Nope. I’m confiscating it until Monday. No work this weekend.”

“Mr Stark, this is important - ”

“I know for a fact it can wait.”

“It can’t wait, I need to - ”

“Plus, as much of a delight as my daughter is, I don’t think MJ will want to entertain a seven year old for six hours while her boyfriend is busy revising action strategies or whatever.”

Face reddening at the word ‘boyfriend’, Peter huffed and reluctantly started putting the papers back in the binder. 

“Fine. But if that event goes wrong, you have to tell the abandoned puppies why they still don’t have homes.”

“I will bear that burden gladly.”

Peter raised his eyebrows, before a smile broke onto his face. 

“Alright kid.” Tony lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “What’s the plan?”

“Uh, the plan was to raise awareness about the abandoned puppies, but - ”

_ “ Jesus Christ _ _._ The  _ plan  _ plan, kid. The plan involving a certain Miss Jones.”

Peter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I...I don’t know.”

“You had one last time, right?”

“Yeah.”

There was a moment of silence. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “And…?”

“And I, uh, I wanted to watch a movie with her. But it didn’t really work out.”

“Second time’s the charm,” Tony said, tilting his head at the TV screen above them and tossing Peter the remote. “Remember, make her laugh, and just be your usual, dorky self. I’ll keep Morgan out of your way. You’re welcome.”

“I don’t remember asking for relationship advice.”

“The puppies aren’t asking for homes, kid, but they’re in dire need of ‘em.”

Peter aimed a swipe at him, but then MJ was suddenly standing next to them and Peter’s expression of furious embarrassment sank into a warm smile. 

“MJ! Hey!” 

“Hey. Cool jet,” she said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Is it, um, OK if I sit here?”

“I thought you were meant to be up front?” Peter said, slipping into the easy confidence Tony usually only saw when he was Spider-Man. “You can fly this thing, right?”

“Shut up, Parker.”

She gave him a gentle shove and he scooted over to let her sit. Tony winked as he got up and walked away, before being hit very forcefully by three and a half feet of not-at-all contained excitement.

“Daddy!”

“Hey, squirt. You all set?”

Morgan nodded and he picked her up, putting her down in a window seat at the other end of the jet. He sat down next to her and helped her extract what must have been the entire supply of Pepper’s arts and crafts cupboard from her backpack, keeping one eye on Peter and MJ as they flicked through the film catalogue.

“Can we do colouring?” Morgan asked.

“Ooh, my favourite. Disney princesses or farm animals?”

Morgan tapped his shoulder, beckoning him to come closer so she could whisper into his ear.

“That’s Peter’s  _ girlfriend _ .” 

He nodded, making her giggle with silly kissing noises he knew Peter could hear despite the headphones he and MJ were wearing.

“She’s funny,” Morgan said. “And she said my arguing skills are excellent.”

“Really? Never would have guessed.”

“Are they gonna get married?”

Peter turned and peered over the headrest of his seat, eyes wide and horrified. When Tony raised his eyebrows at him jokingly, Peter gave him a warning glare, sticking his tongue out at Morgan before turning back to face the TV screen. 

“Never you mind,” Tony said, the humming of the jet growing louder as F.R.I.D.A.Y prepared for take off. “Here, pass me the yellow. I wanna colour Rapunzel.”

* * *

It was a good job Peter was there because honestly, only a person with stamina enhanced by a fuck-ton of radiation and spider venom could keep up with Morgan racing around London Zoo. 

MJ managed to, for a while, but after lunch she chose to plod along behind in pleasant quiet with Tony while Peter and Morgan continued to bounce off each other’s seemingly never-ending supply of energy. Right now, Morgan was on her tip-toes, pointing through a little window in the wall of the insect house.

“Look, Pete! It’s you!”

Peter’s eyes widened, and he quickly swept her up in his arms. 

“Shh! That’s a super-duper-never-tell-anybody-ever secret, remember?”

Morgan seemed to realise her mistake, putting a hand over her mouth and mumbling an apology.

“Besides,” Peter said, peering at the tarantula through the glass, “that guy looks way scarier than me.”

“And hairier!”

“And his room’s tidier,” Tony muttered, glancing at the tarantula and the mess of leaves it was sat in before turning away with a shudder.

“My room isn’t that bad, Mr Stark. Hey, Morgan, should I try to grow eight eyes like him?”

MJ sidled up next to them, nudging Peter’s arm.  “Wonder if you can talk to it, like Harry Potter and the python.”

Peter’s mouth widened into a wicked grin and he turned around, probably about to try doing just that when Tony stepped in.

“Uh, not that I’m not pleased to meet your extended family, kid, but maybe we should get outta here before a certain cat gets let out of the bag.”

“What cat?” Morgan asked. “Is there a cat at the zoo?”

“There are lots of cats,” Peter said, already heading to the exit of the bug house. “They’re big and orange, and they have black stripes.”

“Tigers! Can we race to the tigers, Pete?”

“Challenge accepted.” 

He put her down and they started wrestling each other to get out of the door, Peter making a slightly dramatic show of lagging behind as they ran outside and round the corner. Tony sighed as he watched them go, turning to MJ as they followed at a normal human pace. 

“Which one’s the seven year old again? I forget.” 

“Try getting the slightly taller seven year old to remember decathlon practise.”

Tony laughed, relieved to see MJ’s nervous smile turn into an actual one.

“I’m, uh, sorry for interrogating you over the phone the other day,” she said, wringing the strap of her backpack as they walked. “In hindsight, I realise it must have been a little...intense.”

“No, not at all,” Tony replied. “You asked some good questions. The world politics round was particularly challenging. And you made some great points about feminism in the post-Blip era, I forwarded them to the UN.”

She smiled sheepishly. “I just...you know. Had to be sure. But this was a good idea. Thanks for bringing me. And for persuading him to come, he deserves it.”

Tony nodded, taking off his sunglasses and putting them in his pocket. “Yeah. Yeah, he does.”

“I don’t actually mind him missing decathlon practise,” she said. “I only pretend to because favouritism isn’t good for team morale. I know about everything he’s doing, all the people he’s been helping.”

“I’m glad he’s got someone he can talk to about it. And, you know, someone to complain to about his overbearing mentor.”

“He complains about you sometimes,” MJ said, laughing when he slapped a hand on his chest in mock offence. “Only sometimes! And he cares about you, too. A lot. Your opinion matters more to him than anybody else’s. And he talks about Morgan, like, constantly. Never thought Spider-Man would be a kid kind of person, but I understand now. She’s...cute.”

Tony laughed. “Well, we’ve established Spider-Man is just a slightly bigger, superpowered kid, so I guess it shouldn’t really come as a surprise.”

She smiled as they caught sight of the superpowered kid in question, who was currently crouched beside Morgan looking at the tiger sleeping against the window of its enclosure. 

“I like him,” MJ said, quieter now. “He’s...different. Not because of Spider-Man. He was special before all of that. Working out that part wasn’t even the most surprising thing about him, you know? He’s just...whenever I think I’ve figured him out, he does something that subverts all my expectations. It’s infuriating, really.”

“I get that. Whenever I think I’ve finally thought of everything I could put into his suit to keep him safe, he finds another obscure way to throw himself into danger.”

Spotting them, Peter gave them a cheerful wave, before Morgan grabbed him by the hand and dragged him away to the next enclosure.

“I’m really glad he’s got you,” MJ said as they followed behind. “I trust you to take care of him.”

Tony didn’t really know what to do with that.

* * *

He was starting to think this wasn’t such a good idea. 

They had been on the London Eye (which they unanimously agreed was an overrated ferris wheel), visited the Natural History Museum (where Tony refused to talk to Peter for two hours for having the _ audacity _ to ask why there wasn’t an Ironman exhibit in the dinosaurs section), and had even been on a private tour of Buckingham Palace (although Tony’s  _ really good friend, honestly kid, we go way back _ wasn’t home).

Now they were taking a boat tour on the River Thames, the very recently reconstructed Tower Bridge fast approaching, and the kid sitting in front of Tony had suddenly gone very quiet. 

“That’s the Tower of London,” MJ said, pointing out the pale turrets of the building looming on the bank of the river. “Did you know that’s where Guy Fawkes was put after he tried to blow up Parliament in the 1665 Gunpowder Plot?”

Morgan was looking up at her as if she had just told her the answer to life itself. 

“Why did he try to blow it up?” 

“Well, he really only wanted to blow up the king,” MJ said. “And now England celebrates it every year on November 5th, with fireworks and bonfires. What a country, right?”

“Can we take pictures, MJ?”

MJ took her hand and went with her to the front of the boat, handing her the camera and carefully showing her how to work it. After a moment of watching to make sure Morgan didn’t drop it straight into the murky waters below, Tony leaned forward and put a hand on Peter’s shoulder. 

“You OK?”

Peter turned to face him, offered a weak smile. “Yeah.”

“You, uh, thinking about the horse?” 

Peter nodded. 

“Sorry, kid. I didn’t realise the tour took us this way. I can make him turn around if you want?”

“No, it’s...it’s OK,” Peter said, biting his lip. “I need to be back here. See it on a day when the world isn’t ending.”

He glanced up at the bridge, eyes darting left and right as if retracing the steps of the battle. 

_ That’s where the illusion started. That’s where Beck tried to shoot me. That’s where I fought the drones. That’s where he died. _

Tony watched, struck by that familiar clenching feeling in his chest.

Of all the things he had fixed in his life, all the problems the Great Tony Stark had ever overcome, the one he cared about most was the only one he couldn’t do a damn thing about. He was still finding that hard to accept, despite the rational side of his mind that told him it wasn’t his fault, that Peter needed to work this out for himself. 

He had built Peter’s suits, made him an Avenger - hell, he had brought the kid back from the fucking dead. So why couldn’t he fix this? Do this one thing for the kid that deserved so, so much more? 

As the boat passed underneath the bridge, MJ glanced back over at them, brow furrowing as her gaze landed on Peter’s face. After a minute, she ushered Morgan back towards the seating area. Tony took his hand off of Peter’s shoulder as they approached, giving it a final reassuring squeeze.

“Hey,” MJ said quietly, nudging Peter’s arm as she sat down beside him. “Remember when I found you up there after you kicked Mysterio’s ass, Parker?”

Peter blinked, glazed eyes refocusing as he was drawn out of whatever memory he had just been stuck in. 

“Yeah,” he said, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “You brought an axe with you.”

“Actually, it was a mace. I thought I could help. Although in hindsight, it might not have been the best plan.”

Peter laughed, taking her hand in his. “No. Don’t worry. You did help.”

Tony pretended not to hear, pulling Morgan up onto his lap as she described the photos she was showing him on the camera. With a last glance at the back of Peter’s head, he looked away, the tight feeling in his chest loosening a little. 

The problem might have been an impossible one to fix, he thought, but at least, from now on, he wouldn’t be the only one working on it. 

* * *

The applause went on long after the actors had taken their final bows and exited the stage. Pieces of white confetti were still drifting delicately on the air as the doors to the Globe theatre were opened, a satisfied buzz of conversation filling the circular structure as the audience started to trickle out. 

Peter and MJ remained where they were for a moment, waiting for the magic that still lingered after the performance to dissipate. Peter was motionless, relishing the feeling of her at his side, the warmth where she was leaning against him. 

“I’ve always wanted to come here,” MJ whispered. “Did you know the original theatre burned down in 1613? For some reason they thought firing a cannon in a wooden building with a thatched roof was a good idea.”

“It doesn’t look so bad now.”

MJ smiled, carefully entwining her fingers in his.

“Did you understand the play?”

“I may not have read all of Shakespeare, like, a thousand times,” he said, dodging the playful swipe she aimed at his head, “but yeah, I understood. I liked Viola best. For some reason, characters hiding a secret identity really speak to me.”

“Hm. Wonder why that is.”

He reached up, removing a piece of confetti that had gotten caught in her hair. She smiled as he offered it to her, carefully unfolding it and stroking the heart shape with her finger.

“I guess we should head back to the hotel,” she sighed. “Otherwise Morgan will think we’re having fun without her.”

“I love you.”

The words had escaped before Peter even realised he was thinking them. MJ gasped softly, looking up and meeting his gaze, and he realised he didn’t regret it. 

His eyes flickered down to her lips, and then she was kissing him, her arms slowly wrapping around his neck. He pulled her closer, brushing her cheek and threading his fingers through her hair, and even if the world had started ending right then and there he wouldn’t have noticed because all he could think about, all he wanted to think about, was being here, with her. 

“I love you too.”

Her words took a moment to register in his brain as they parted, the scent of her perfume lingering in the space between them. 

If there was a moment Peter could choose to live in forever, it would be this one. 

* * *

“Mr Stark?”

Tony looked up from the specs he was absentmindedly scrolling through on his phone. At some point, the sky outside the window of the jet had turned dark, and F.R.I.D.A.Y had dimmed the lights so they could sleep on the journey home home.

Peter sat down across from him quietly, his gaze falling briefly to Morgan. He smiled as he saw the way she was sleeping sprawled across three seats, head in Tony’s lap and her new toy tarantula held loosely in her hand. 

“You OK?” Tony whispered. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, and for the first time in weeks Tony actually believed him. Peter looked...rested. The dark circles Tony hadn’t even realised had become a permanent feature under the kid’s eyes were finally gone, the slight furrow of his brow relaxed. 

“I just, uh, wanted to say thank you,” Peter said. “For this weekend. For making me agree to it.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t have to drug your ass to get you on the jet, kid.”

“I’m serious,” Peter said, schooling the grin that wanted to spread on his face into a grateful smile. “I did need this. You...you were right.”

“Woah. That doesn’t sound like the Peter I know. Something wrong? Do I need to suit up?”

“Mr  _ Stark. _ ”

Tony smiled, nodding and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright.” He sighed and relaxed back into his seat, one hand stroking Morgan’s hair. “You’re welcome. You deserved it, kid. I just...I just want you to know how proud I am of you. Not just of Spider-Man. Of Peter Parker.”

Peter looked down at his hands sheepishly. “Thanks, sir.”

“Good man. Now go on, Spiderling, your girlfriend’s waiting.”

Blushing, Peter got up and headed back, sitting back down and resting his head on MJ’s shoulder. Tony sighed, content. 

As far as his ideas went, this was one of the good ones. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as always comments and constructive criticism are very welcome!  
> (Bonus points to anyone who can tell me which Shakespeare play was referred to there at the end...)  
> Stay indoors and stay safe people!


	5. The T-Shirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter blinked, and then he was climbing up the side of a building.   
> Worryingly, he had no idea what building it was.  
> Or how he got up there.   
> ...Or why he was up there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the fifth thing only Tony knew!   
> This chapter might seem a little more rushed than the others, but that's because my relationship status with my internet is now officially *complicated* and I wanted to post this before it leaves me altogether and runs off with another woman.   
> Hope you enjoy, and as always comments, kudos, and constructive criticism are very welcome! Your feedback always makes my day and has really helped keep me motivated in my writing. :)

Peter blinked, and then he was halfway up the side of a building. 

Another blink, and he realised he had no idea why he was up there. 

His concentration slipped, and he slipped with it, falling for several seconds before his brain switched to autopilot and made him throw out a hand to catch himself. 

_ stickstickstickstickstickstickstickstickstick _

This was weird. Sticking wasn’t normally this difficult. It felt like his hands were wrapped in cotton wool, the wall beneath his fingertips fuzzy and distant. 

Come to think of it, everything was a bit fuzzy right now. The bricks blurred in front of his eyes as he continued climbing, every sound muffled under the noise of…waves?

Waves. Water. 

Was he near water?

Maybe he got thrown into the river again. Wouldn’t be the first time. And that would explain why he was so cold. 

But rivers didn’t sound like waves (the ones in New York didn’t, anyway) and besides, he wasn’t wet. 

He was, however, cold. Like, really cold. Colder than that time he got trapped in a refrigerated van and the suit - along with the heater inside - ran out of power.

Why was he so cold?

...Wait. 

A heater. In his suit. He had one of those.

“Karen?”

The waves swelled again, getting louder.

“Karen? W-warm, please.”

Still no answer. Maybe she was on vacation. AIs took vacations too, right? And Karen worked really hard, she deserved a break. Maybe he was there with her, on a beach somewhere warm and sunny, and that’s why he could hear waves.

No, that wasn’t right. It was dark, and he was on a building, not a beach. And he was really cold. No-one would go on vacation somewhere this cold.

“Karen?”

He stopped climbing and forced his eyes to focus on the display in his mask.

This was really weird. There was no data. No maps, no police reports, no notifications. Just letters, bold and red, letters which his brain was having a hard time putting together into words.

Karen must have come back from vacation, though, because suddenly he could hear her voice over the sound of the waves, making the letters into words for him.

_ “...-col Activated. Bug-Zapper Protocol Activated. Bug-Zapper Protocol Activated. Bug-Zapper...” _

What a stupid name for a protocol. That must have been something Mr Stark added, because there was no way Peter would give any protocol of his own such a ridiculous title. 

God, his head was spinning. And hurting. He shut his eyes and pressed his forehead against the wall, taking deep breaths in, out, in time with the waves.

No. Not waves, he realised. 

Blood. His own blood. Rushing in his ears, loud and fast.

OK, this was really, really weird. And if he was honest, he was starting to feel...not great.

He began climbing again, because he must have started climbing for a reason, and maybe Tony or May or Happy would be there when he stopped climbing and they could tell him what the hell was going on, and where he was, and how he got there, and why everything was fuzzy, and why his suit smelled of burning.

_ “Bug-Zapper Protocol Activated. Bug-Zapper Protocol Activated. Bug-Zapper - ” _

“Yeah, I got it,” he snapped, setting a hand down a little too hard and causing the brick underneath it to crack. “Protocol activated, whatever.”

Karen’s voice paused. 

Oh no. He hoped he hadn’t hurt her feelings. He shouldn’t get angry, this wasn’t Karen’s fault. 

With a groan, he pulled himself up to rest on a nearby ledge, chest heaving and every muscle in his body aching. 

_ “Playing pre-recorded message.” _

There was a small click in his ear. The red letters vanished, and a face popped up on the display. 

Holy shit. 

That was  _ his  _ face.

_ "Uh, hey, future me!” _ his face said. _ “This is past you. Or past me, I guess. Well, present me and past...whatever, you get it.” _

Peter did not get it. 

This was so, so weird. Somewhere in the back of his quickly unravelling mind, he knew he was watching himself, but the Peter he was looking at looked like a completely different person. This Peter was younger, his voice embarrassingly high-pitched, and he was wearing that T-shirt that had never turned up again after he got back from being dead. 

Peter loved that shirt. Why did younger, not-yet-dead Peter get to wear it and he didn’t?

_ “If you’re hearing this message,” _ younger Peter said, _ “it means you’re being mind controlled. Someone got inside your brain, you know, a ‘these aren’t the droids you’re looking for’ type situation. But hang tight, help’s coming. In the meantime, this protocol should’ve disabled Karen and the web shooters and, uh, electrocuted you a little bit. Sorry for that. That must’ve sucked. Or, uh, is gonna suck, in my case.” _

Huh. Electrocuted. That rang a bell. Maybe that’s why his whole body felt like a tower of cards about to topple over. 

_ "But that was just to give everyone a head start, you know, stop you hurting anybody," _ younger Peter continued. _"_ _ So just keep on not hurting anybody, and find Mr Stark. A message should have been sent to him giving him a heads up, so hopefully he’ll know what to do. Good luck, man.” _

Younger Peter (or should it be old Peter? Previous Peter? Pre-Peter?) disappeared, and the red letters returned, bold and flashing. 

Peter - new Peter,  _ now  _ Peter - groaned, closing his eyes and rolling over, toppling right off the ledge and landing with a painful thud on a stone floor. 

Shit. He was starting to feel less not great, and more very bad.

His head was pounding, the cold seeping into his bones. His heart felt like it was trying to break through his ribs, and for some reason his body wouldn’t listen to his desperate attempts to  _ calm the fuck down _ , taking in huge gulps of air and expelling them too fast.

He sat up, leaned against the wall

OK. OK. Think.

Not-yet-dead Peter said he was being mind-controlled. That meant...

“Peter?”

What was he doing again?

“Peter!”

Something about finding...something. Droids, or...waves, maybe?

“I have a clear shot, sir.”

“Stand down, do  _ not _ shoot!”

“Peter, honey!”

Peter was panicking. Adrenaline rose through his body, except it wasn’t surging with the thrill of swinging through New York, but crawling, dredging up in his muscles, making his limbs heavy and numb.

“Peter?”

He needed to get out. He needed to get out right now.

“Kid! You alright?”

Gasping, Peter scrambled to his feet. 

He blinked, and then there was someone running towards him, with green, glowing eyes and huge metal wings. He flinched, hit out clumsily, barely managing to stay on his feet.

“Woah, watch it - ”

He yelled and hit out again, fist colliding with something and sending it flying across the balcony.

“Shit!”

“Peter, baby, it’s OK - ”

“ - everybody back - ”

“ - stop, he’s just - ”

Peter blinked, and then there was a spaceship in the sky, dark and huge and rumbling like thunder, raining down hellfire.

There was a bang.

“Peter!”

The hellfire came down, on him. Something in his side exploded, and he choked on a breath, stumbling backwards before something cold wrapped around his wrists and lowered him to the floor. 

“Kid?! Kid, can you hear me? Shit - get Cho here, now, and Banner, get Banner on the phone - ”

Metal. Metal was wrapped around his wrists, holding tight, and now he was panicking again because  _ god  _ he hurt -

“Peter? Kid, look at me, open your eyes.”

The cold of the metal was seeping through his skin, draining any warmth that was left.

“Let - let me go - ”

“Kid, stop, it’s OK! You’re safe!”

“Please - no - ”

He struggled, agony ripping through his side with every movement, but the metal wouldn’t budge and he needed to  _ get out _ .

“Listen to me, listen, it’s me, it’s Tony!”

Peter forced his eyes open, a face that  _ thank god  _ wasn’t a younger version of his own swimming into focus above him. 

“W-what...Mr Stark?”

“Yeah, kid, it’s me!" Tony said, the nanobots that made up his helmet melting away to reveal his face. "Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

This was wrong. This was all wrong. Tony was wearing a suit. Tony never wore a suit, not anymore, unless something was happening, something bad, unless he’d done something wrong, or the world was ending -

“Stark, leave him!”

“- someone get medical!”

“This isn’t safe - ”

“- hit his head pretty hard - ”

Peter followed the sound of voices talking over each other, eyes landing on something - someone - lying on the ground a few feet away. Someone big, in a suit. Not a metal one like Tony’s, a normal suit, with an ID badge stuck to the pocket.

“Hap - Happy? What’s - what did I - ”

A metal hand let go of his wrist and came up to his cheek, turning his head away.

“Peter, listen - ”

“No, let me go - let me  _ help _ , sir, please - ”

“Stop -  _ stop _ , kid, you’re bleeding, you gotta stay still - ”

“No, it’s - Happy - he’s - ”

Oh god.  _ Ohgodohgodohgod.  _ He hurt Happy. Happy was hurt, because of him. Happy might even be dead because of him. 

He batted Tony’s hand away and turned his head again, saw May kneeling beside Happy’s body, her eyes wide and frightened and oh  _ god  _ he was scaring her -

“Peter, listen to me!” Tony said, shaking Peter’s shoulder  _ way  _ too hard and sending another wave of pain through his side. “It’s OK! It’s not your fault.”

This was so, so wrong. Other Peter said not to hurt anybody, and now he had hurt someone. Hurt Happy.

“I don’t - what did I do, what - ”

“You didn’t do anything.” Tony’s voice was wavering, his face panicked and desperate. “You’ve been drugged, someone’s messing with your head. Just stay still, alright?”

Someone. Messing with his head. Drugged.

OK, that made sense. That would explain why everything was hurting so bad, why there were images fading in and out of reality around him, images of fire and metal and waves, rising. 

Something pressed down hard on his side. The pain pressed back, ten times harder.

“Hurts.”

“I know,” Tony said, jaw clenching as Peter tried to pull his hand away. “God, I’m sorry - ”

“It - it really hurts, I can’t - ”

“Yes, you can. Just focus on me.”

Peter tried, he really did. He gave it everything he had because this was  _ Tony  _ asking, but then there were others, other hands on him, lifting him up and forcing his eyelids open and poking sharp things into his skin, and then he was wet, water running down his side and pooling on the ground beneath him, warm and sticky -

He started struggling again, tried to push himself up, tried to push the hands away. 

“Not safe...need to…”

“You’re safe, Peter.” Tony’s voice was still there, clearer than all the others. “I promise, I’ve got you, you’re gonna be - ”

“No...hurt people, wasn’t - wasn’t meant to hurt people.”

Tony might have answered, but the waves were rising again. They roared, came crashing down on top of him, sent pulses of pain through every nerve.

He was cold, and he hurt, and he was tired. 

He couldn’t do this.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t - don’t you dare.”

Peter blinked, and then he was underwater, in a huge glass sphere. 

“Stay awake, Parker, come on.”

“ - get him to medical - ”

“ - away from him, Stark, he’s dangerous - ”

“He’s  _ dying _ , for fuck’s sake!”

Dark shadows were shifting all around him, broken by flashes of green, flashes that illuminated a figure, the silhouette terrifyingly familiar.

“Beck...no, no, no - you’re not here, you’re not real.” 

The words fell out in broken gasps, his body desperately dragging in air. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t see -

“Peter, listen to me - ”

“ - he’s panicking, hold him down - ”

“ - blood sample, run every test we’ve got - ”

He was sinking, pulled down by webs that were snaking their way around his chest.

“It’s not...not real. Not real. Not...”

“Peter?” Tony’s voice cut through, somehow distant and right beside him at the same time. “Kid, it’s alright, just - just listen, listen to me. Did you send yourself a message too, huh? I got mine earlier. You must have recorded it when you first got your suit, you look about Morgan’s age in it. And you were wearing that shirt, right, the one you had on when you first met me, the  _ find x _ one? It got lost when your stuff went in storage in the Blip, so I bought you a new one for your birthday. With the dumb proton pun.”

Oh, yeah. Peter remembered the proton shirt. Positive like a proton. He loved that shirt. 

Fuck it, younger Peter could keep the other one.

“Tony, you gotta let him go - ”

“I can’t, I need to - ”

“It’s gonna be OK…”

At some point, Peter stopped struggling. The voices around him went quiet. 

Peter blinked, and then everything went dark. 

* * *

Another blink, and the voices were back. 

Wait. Scratch that. 

Voice, singular. 

_ “Hi, Mr Stark!” _

Shit.  _ His  _ voice.

_ “Sorry to bother you - even though I’m not technically bothering you right now, it’s more like I’m pre-bothering - you know what, never mind, not important.” _

God. Was it possible to be bothered by yourself? Because that’s what was happening. He vaguely remembered recording this, but he definitely didn’t remember ever being this annoying.

_ “Hopefully you’ll never actually get this message, but shit happens and it helps to be prepared. So, uh, if you’re hearing this, it means someone got in my head. You know, like what happened to Clint when Loki had the mind stone thingy? So please could you just find me, like, ASAP. The protocol I’ve put into the suit should have sent you my location and...immobilised me, temporarily.” _

‘Immobilised’. Is that what past-Peter called very painfully electrocuting somebody? 

He forced an eye open, squinting in the light of the med-bay, intending to tell whoever was watching the video what ‘immobilised’ actually meant. 

_ “And stop me hurting anybody too, if you can. Including you. Obviously I don’t wanna hurt you, but if someone is controlling my mind or whatever then I’m probably not thinking straight. Or at all. So yeah. Go get me. And thank you, in advance.” _

Both of his eyes were suddenly very wide open. 

No. No, no, no. 

“Happy!”

Peter pushed himself up, flinching at the sound of a machine shrieking next to him as he nearly toppled right off the bed. 

“What the - shit - kid, what the hell?”

He wanted to move, wanted to run, but then his legs collapsed underneath him almost as soon as he stood up, and he was spared a very painful encounter with the floor by a pair of hands catching him by his shoulders. Hands that were warm and human, hands that weren’t made of metal.

As the world tilted dangerously beneath him, he looked up to find Tony staring at him in a mixture of shock and relief.

But that didn’t matter, not right now. Nothing mattered except -

“Happy? Where - what happened - ”

“Easy kid!” Tony said, grunting as Peter made an admittedly pathetic attempt to escape his grip. “Stand down, it’s alright - ”

“No, you don’t understand, I - he’s hurt, sir, I hurt him - ”

The door opened and May walked into the room, eyes widening when she saw him awake. 

“Peter!”

The two cups she was holding tumbled to the floor, covering the wall in coffee-coloured splatters.

“May, where’s Happy?” Peter said, breathless. “Is he OK, did I hurt him?”

“You didn’t hurt anyone, baby!” May said, rushing over to help Tony ease him back onto the bed. “Happy’s fine! He was knocked out for about thirty seconds, but he’s OK now, I promise.”

Peter froze, choked back a sob. 

“Are you sure?”

“Happy is  _ fine _ , kid,” Tony said, giving his shoulders a reassuring squeeze. “He’s tougher than he looks. He was out of action for half an hour, tops.”

A shaky breath escaped Peter’s lips, and he nodded, letting himself be pushed back into the pillow. He began to relax, but flinched when a sharp pain flared up in his side, lifting a hand towards it and finally noticing the - wow, four different tubes coming out of him, each hooking him up to a different machine. 

“Careful there.” 

May moved to his side, slipping into the calm and soothing voice she used to use when she was putting band-aids on his scraped knees. As she began untangling the tubes, Peter squeezed his eyes shut, stomach flipping at the sight of the needles shifting under his skin. 

“Ew. Ew, ew, ew. That’s - God.”

Tony hummed in grim agreement, sitting back down in the chair beside the bed and looking very determinedly down at his phone.

“Oh please, I’ve seen toddlers less dramatic,” May said, rolling her eyes at both of them.

“I reserve my right to be dramatic,” Peter huffed. “I feel  _ awful _ .”

“Not surprised,” Tony said, eyebrows raised. “You’ve had your system flushed so many times I’m surprised there’s anything left in it.”

“F-flushed?”

Tony watched him for a moment, brow furrowing, as May started straightening his blanket. 

“Do you remember anything?”

“Uh...I remember...I remember seeing Happy, on the floor, and being really cold, but...no, other than that, nothing.” He shifted, eyes widening in realisation as his side twinged again. “Wait, is this - was I shot?”

He looked at May, confused. She swallowed, reached out and took his hand. 

“Yeah, honey. You were.”

“But I can assure you,” Tony cut in, “no agent has ever been suspended faster.”

Peter blinked. “Wait, what? An agent shot me? Like, one of Fury’s agents?”

“Mm.”

“Did I screw up that bad?”

Tony sighed and held up his phone for Peter to see, showing him the paused video clip he had been watching earlier, his younger, more annoying face looking out at him.

“Any bells ringing?”

Peter shrugged. “Making it, yeah, but sending it...not at all.”

Tony met May’s gaze across the room

“You didn’t screw up kid,” Tony said after a moment. “You, uh…you finally got big enough to go on the mind control coaster.  You were grabbed while you were out on patrol, went missing for a few hours. And then the guy who got you sent a message to the media, saying he was about to show the world ‘who Spider-Man really is’.”

Peter felt like he was about to throw up. It must have shown on his face, too, because Tony’s eyes widened.

“Not like that!” he said quickly, and Peter felt May squeeze his hand tight. “It wasn’t like that, don’t worry. The guy who grabbed you, he, uh, he drugged you. Gave you a hallucinogenic paired with a bucketload of adrenaline and some other stuff to make your fight-or-flight kick in. And then let you go.”

“Let me go?” Peter said, bewildered. “Why?”

Tony sighed, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the bed. “We think he wanted you to hurt someone. Turn the public against you. Against the Avengers.”

“Did I?” Peter said, wringing the blanket in his hands. “Hurt someone?”

“No, of course not!” May said, giving his hand another squeeze. “You did so good, baby. You activated the protocol in your suit and then got back to the compound all on your own. But the drugs didn't react well with your system. It...it was touch and go, for a while."

Peter swallowed. “And the, uh, getting shot part?”

Tony made a growling noise in the back of his throat, and May’s expression flickered from quietly reassuring to downright terrifying.

“Fury got wind of what was happening.” Tony said, his voice low. “Sent a bunch of agents to the compound. Obviously I know you wouldn’t hurt a fly - ”

“I am literally Spider-Man, sir - ”

“- but you’re enhanced, and we were…” He waved a hand, searching for words. “You know, it was just a precaution. One of them got a little twitchy after...after Happy spooked you and you reacted. He’s been dealt with.”

“And the guy?” Peter asked, looking back and forth between them. “The mind control guy?”

“Also dealt with.”

Peter wanted to question further, but May shifted uncomfortably beside him and Tony was giving him a look that said it would be better if he didn’t know.

“OK.” Peter swallowed, nodding as the information sank into his still fuzzy brain. “OK. So, uh, how long was I out?”

“Just a day,” Tony replied. “Ate up almost the entire supply of super-drugs though. We had to keep you under until we were sure that crap was completely out of your system.”

Peter hummed. “Let’s hope Bruce doesn’t step on a Lego or something, then.”

Tony and May both chuckled, exchanging a quick glance of shared relief.

“No amount of drugs can fix that kind of pain,” Tony said. “Speaking of, actually, Morgan told me to tell you she finished the pirate ship you guys were working on.”

“Without me?” Peter said, probably a little dramatically. “What the - tell her she’s a traitor, and that I’ll be making her walk the plank.”

Tony laughed, pushing himself up from the chair with a groan and heading for the door, careful to step over the quickly cooling puddle of coffee on the floor.

“I’ll go get her and you can tell her yourself.”

“Bring Happy too?” Peter called after him. “And also Doctor Strange, if he’s around. I wanna borrow his magic rock so I can go back in time and get my younger self back for electrocuting me.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Tony said, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “I already got him back. I sent your baby face to every Avenger in my contacts. It’s already being - what is it? - memed?”

_ “Oh my God.” _

Peter threw his head back into the pillow with a groan, and Tony practically skipped out of the room, cackling gleefully as he went. 

Peter turned to look at May. 

“Could you put me back to sleep for, like, the rest of time?”

She raised her eyebrows, put on a mock-stern expression. “Nope. No way. You’re never allowed to sleep again, ever.”

He laughed, and she laughed too, but then her smile wavered. She gave his hand another squeeze, the pressure lingering a moment too long.

“May? You OK?”

She sighed, nodded. “Now I am. It just...it just scared me a little bit, seeing you like that.”

“Y-you were there?”

Almost as soon as the question left his mouth, distant memories of her voice calling out for him began to stir, giving him all the confirmation he needed. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, holding her hand in both of his. “I’m sorry I scared you. And for, you know, hitting your boyfriend.”

She chuckled, brushing some stray hair from his forehead. “It’s OK. I will admit - begrudgingly, mind you - that it wasn’t your fault. But still, no Spider-Man for at least a week. You’re on bedrest until further notice.”

“Is there any point - ”

“Resistance is futile.”

He snapped his mouth shut and she laughed quietly. She watched him for a few moments more, then stood up with a sigh, walking over to the window and opening it to let a cool gust of air into the room.

“May?” 

“Hm?”

He swallowed, frowning as more memories started to dig themselves up. The sting of a needle being pushed into his skin. Aching muscles as he climbed. Tony’s voice, clear and steady, following him through the fog.

“Can...can I have my proton shirt, please?”

May raised an eyebrow, confused. “Your what?”

“My shirt. With the proton on it.”

“Honey, I don’t know what a proton is.”

“It’s the black one, the black T-shirt, with the blue smiley thing on it.”

“Oh! Yeah, sure. I can bring that. Why?”

Peter smiled, twitching his head slightly at the sound of Tony and Morgan approaching in the corridor. 

“I just...I just really like that shirt,” he said. “It’s my favourite.”


End file.
